We just left Alonso Ibarrola – he liked to sign and call him – (San Sebastián, 90 years old). Journalist, writer, kinephil, melómano, joker, an endearing guy. From his multifaceted profile that may leave greater echo is his mastery in the short story, dyed of a caustic humor, intelligent, sometimes even absurd and pulling black. The great master of journalists Eduardo Haro Teclen called him “almost clandestine” author, comparing it with the greats of Hispanic humor, such as Jardiel Poncela, Mihura or Edgar Neville. With Haro Tecilen and with OPS (who now signs like the broken one) agreed in the weekly Wolf brothera glimpse of freedom in full Franco; Those texts of Ibarrola could be compared to the acidic drawings of OPS/the broken.
Although he also wrote a novel, they are the short (sometimes surreal) stories where he best expressed his talent and his extensive knowledge. To his first book, Depetrismany other collections of stories followed, for more than thirty years. Some of them appeared in full Franco – critical, therefore – and that supposed a breath of fresh air. Among other volumes, Firecillas for citizens respectful of the law o Stories for bourgeoisthis by Cesare Zavattini (the great screenwriter and Pilar of Italian Neorealism, to which Ibarrola dedicated a couple of studies), and translated into several languages. Some of their stories were collected in anthologies such as Please be brieftogether with well -known names of universal literature.
José Manuel Alonso Ibarrola was born in San Sebastián, in 1934. In 1962 he moved to Madrid, with various journalistic projects in his hands, but never stopped “exercising from Vasco”, imitating speech and breaking topics, with some slying sometimes, but also investigating little known Basque figures, such as the explorer and adventurous Sunday of Bonechea.
His facet as a journalist was exercised in weekly Economic Spain, Young world (where he incorporated José María Íñigo as a collaborator) or the magazine Counterpoint. In those years, in addition, he dedicated himself to television criticism in weekly Colony program y To the superlatethat came to direct. He also signed a column of television critic in the newspaper for years Ofin addition to participating in symposia and congresses.
As of 1994 he devoted himself fully to travel literature, collaborating in the most important specialized magazines, as well as in the corresponding sections of newspapers such as the countryLa Vanguardia, the newspaper Basqueetc. France and Italy were two of their favorite destinations, and the result of their adventures are books like Naples, Mine Italy, You can’t say unpunidly “I love you” in Venice, Paris, Tahiti and its islands o Trips for mitómanoswhere a series of cultural routes to England or Vienna extends.
In short distances, José Manuel was a great conversationalist, thanks to his encyclopedic knowledge. You could spend hours talking to him about literature, of course, but also of cinema, opera or music in general, especially if opera and cinema were Italians. This love of music awarded an unexpected prize: making a report on Verdi, at his busSeto’s house, revealing the slide taken to the piano, appeared, semi -veiled, transparent, the “ghost” of Verdi. This appearance served him for many hours of talk and desktop.
His children Beatriz, Íñigo and José Manuel, his friends (those who are staying) and his readers will always remember José Manuel with that half smile that continues to cause their stories, a comprehensive and mourning grimace. Because laughs apart, and as Gil de Biedma would say, we have understood that this time the thing was serious.